The Cloak of Gold by Liza

She wears no garment stitched by human hands.
Her cloak is woven from the breath of stars—
from the memory of suns that knew her name
before she was born.

It drapes over her shoulders like prophecy.
A mantle of light.
A sacred inheritance.

This is no ordinary gold.
It is the gold of transfiguration.
The gold that sanctifies pain,
reveals truth,
and whispers to the earth:
“She walks as remembrance.
She walks as the breath of God.”

When she moves, the cloak ripples with codes of sovereignty.
When she stands still, it becomes a temple.
A place where others come
to remember their own light.

She is not hidden.
She is revealed.
She is not protected.
She is crowned.